Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Papua New Guinea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kool Moe Dee to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Bluetip,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Delta 5,
New Age Steppers,
Laurel Aitken,
Youth Brigade,
10cc,
Dave Gahan,
The Martian,
Yellowson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fortunes,
Marc Almond,
The Fire Engines,
The Smoke,
The Seeds,
Joy Division,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Associates,
Pierre Henry,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronan,
Jawbox,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Alarm Clocks,
Negative Approach,
Alphaville,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kaleidoscope,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Invisible,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fatback Band,
Erasure,
Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Tres Demented,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
The Real Kids,
Blancmange,
Zapp,
Brothers Johnson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Litter,
Oneida,
The Misunderstood,
Qualms,
the Human League,
Glambeats Corp.,
Severed Heads,
Chrome,
Kool Moe Dee,
Circle Jerks,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
The Raincoats,
The Evens,
Rufus Thomas,
the Soft Cell,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.